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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25394749">Boys on Film</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/reids/pseuds/reids'>reids</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Camboy Spencer, Choking, Derek’s internalized homophobia makes an appearance, Dom/sub, Ends with MoReid boyfriends, F/M, M/M, Pegging, Smut, Starts with Reidaway as fwb, spitting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 01:57:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25394749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/reids/pseuds/reids</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer Reid works as a camboy to pay off his student loans. Derek Morgan is a horny, closeted FBI agent. Their paths cross when Spencer joins the BAU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Elle Greenaway/Spencer Reid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>185</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This wasn’t Spencer’s first career choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what’s a twenty-three year old with almost a decade’s worth of student debt to do other than sex work?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not personable enough for bartending, he’s not fit enough for yoga instruction, and he has too much dignity to serve fast food. He’s stubborn, is what he is, and in his mind, this is the only option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His pale skin looks even paler in the harsh lights pointed at his bed, but his followers aren’t exactly paying for a suntanned beach god. They’re paying for a little scrawny boy to sit on a dildo in front of a webcam and make himself cum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s exactly what he’s going to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls off his boxers and gets settled in his corner, covered in an array of dildos and lube.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His filming corner is the only pretty place in his entire apartment. There’s a pink sheet covering the plain white walls, and a string of dim fairy lights hung across it. All of the toys around him are different shades of muted pinks, and his toy cabinet is a nice white.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He checks himself in the camera to be sure everything’s right. Light blush covers his cheeks, he has a couple clips holding his hair out of his face, subtle sparkles painted on his nails, and baby pink socks cover his shins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer doesn’t consider himself sexy. He’s too thin, his hair is too long, his eyes close too much when he smiles. He‘s sickly, his dark circles and eye bags are perpetual, his cheeks are so sunken in that he could easily be mistaken for a skeleton.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hates this. Having to show off his small frame and delicate skin like this. But it pays the rent, so he settles back on his knees and starts the livestream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek unzips his pants in a hurry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s sat up against his bed frame with his laptop on his thighs as he pushes his hand into his boxers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man on the screen is unconventionally pretty. Not handsome, he’s pretty. With a button nose and otherwise angled features, he wears light makeup and cute hair clips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the last few weeks, Derek has become infatuated with this skinny boy who hides under the screen name “baby_boy”. He watches his streams all the time, and has even turned to the old ones posted on his account late at night when he’s looking for another release. He’s utterly beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches as the pale boy takes his dildo down his throat, and he thinks about pressing on the bulge that’s created when he does. He thinks of his own cock down that throat, and nearly cums from just that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strokes himself, and admires the way the man chokes around the dildo, and how his saliva falls down his chin when he pulls off of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He uncaps the lube beside him, turning around and spreading it carefully over his hole and two of his fingers in front of the camera. He pushes one in slowly, letting out a high-pitched whimper before the other follows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon, he’s sat on the toy, bouncing up and down at the same time as he jerks himself off. His head is thrown back, his mouth is wide open, and his eyes are squeezed shut as he mutters out a string of curses, barely loud enough for the microphone to register.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s hand moves faster over his dick, and the muscles in his abdomen tense as he gets closer to his orgasm. With the swipe of a thumb over his tip, he unloads his cum onto his stomach—over all of the ridges, curves, and muscles—and lets out a strangled groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continues watching the stream, waiting for the man on his screen to finish before he logs out and shuts the top. He takes a Kleenex from the box on his nightstand and wipes the shameful mess from his torso.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even Penelope knows that Derek is gay. He’s been trying for years to force it down, to drown his feelings in the pussy of some girl whose name he wouldn’t know from some bar he’d never return to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only ever feels more guilty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spencer wakes up early the next morning. Seven o’clock, rather than his usual eleven-ish. His first day at the FBI is today—the Behavioral Analysis Unit, specifically. He’s shocked they didn’t find his work online and reject him, but it would’ve been pretty hard to turn away a certified genius with an IQ of 187 and two PhDs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits up in bed and rubs his eyes tiredly, finding a sweater vest and a button up to put over his bare chest, as well as black slacks and a belt to cinch it around his small waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a travel mug of coffee with him for the car ride, but he hopes his office has a machine, because otherwise he’ll have to run out a few times. One cup is not even close to enough caffeine to kick start his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He arrives at the office, is promptly searched and checked into the building, finds his department and meets his boss, Aaron Hotchner, at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer guesses that Aaron is five or six years younger than his mother. Despite his hard, serious exterior, he greets Spencer with a smile and a pat on the shoulder (Spencer has already explained his intense hatred of handshakes).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brings him into the bullpen and gathers the team near Spencer’s new desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s pretty sure his eyes are about to bulge out of his head. This cannot be happening. He cannot be here right now. He blinks, and when the man in front of him doesn’t disappear, he knows he’s in trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everybody, this is Spencer Reid, our new addition to the team. Spencer doesn’t shake hands, guys, so an acknowledging nod will be fine. Spencer, this is Derek Morgan, Elle Greenaway, Penelope Garcia, Jason Gideon, and Jennifer Jareau.” Aaron points to everybody as he introduces them, and they all give a smile and a wave to the young man, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, rather, in front of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer. Not “baby boy”, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spencer</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, a name to the embarrassingly familiar face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer’s hands are tightly locked together, and Derek notices the remnants of nail polish on his long fingernails, in the places by his cuticles that are hard to get to with an alcohol-soaked paper towel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s pants tent slightly, and he can’t help but imagine the way that Spencer takes cock. How he can fit as much as he wants down his throat, the way he looks when he’s riding his toys, the small noises that escape his mouth when he’s close to finishing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde that Spencer’s just been introduced to interrupts Derek’s dirty thoughts. “You can call me JJ.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you can call me Hotch.” Aaron offers, and Spencer nods in understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s shown to the coffee machine (and he thanks God), and to Hotch’s office, and to the break room before he settles at his own desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cheekbones, the pretty pink lips, the soft hazel eyes—they’re all much too distracting for Derek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To make it worse, it’s Thursday, which means that Spencer will be streaming again tonight. Derek’s thoughts are racing faster than ever, and it’s too much for him. His forehead is sweating, his breath is heavy, and he quickly excuses himself to the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the second stall of the men’s room, Derek is trying desperately to think of anything but Spencer.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anchovies, sweaty palms, the way the freezer in mom’s garage smells, grandma’s cakey makeup- okay, all set.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even get the chance to sit back down at his desk before Penelope’s little hand is wrapped around his bicep, pulling him to her office. She sits and starts typing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lock the door and get over here right now, Derek Morgan.” He listens, but he’s still confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you showing me?” He asks, his eyes watching the URL she types into the search bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He recognizes it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Penelope, why the hell are you going onto a porn site?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because Reid’s on it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>porn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Derek!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek tries not to look at the screen, which is currently playing a video of Spencer deepthroating a pale pink dildo, because he knows he won’t be able to hide any physical reaction he may have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like that’s his business and not ours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could I </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> share this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About two weeks goes by before Elle sits on Spencer’s desk at the end of a long Friday and asks him out for drinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He agrees, although hesitantly. Despite his confidence with men, he’s always had a hard time being assertive with women. He’s never exactly been the dominant type, so he considers himself lucky that he didn’t have to make the first move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the bar down the street, Elle’s a couple of drinks in, and her hand is rested on Spencer’s thigh. He doesn’t mind so much, having a hot girl’s hand dangerously close to his crotch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truth be told, Spencer’s never had sex with a girl. He’s not fantastic at communicating with women, so he gave up on it a while ago when he figured out that he doesn’t have to do much of the talking when it comes to men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s excited, though. Especially because Elle is definitely the type to take control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Reid, you have a girlfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I be out with you if I had a girlfriend?” Spencer asks, and takes a sip of his second drink on the bar in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t mean to be too forward, but do you want to come back to my place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer nearly chokes in the liquid in his mouth before nodding. “Uh- yeah. Definitely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer was right. About Elle being dominant, that is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushes him onto her mattress and he lands on his ass, taking the opportunity to rid himself of his sweater vest. Elle pulls off her top and gets into his lap, straddling his hips and attaching her mouth to his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels his bulge against her clothed core, and grinds down on his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whimpers slightly, and he awkwardly puts his hands on her waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Reid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t your first time, right?” He can hear the new hesitation in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-no. I’ve just, uh-I’ve never had sex with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>woman</span>
  </em>
  <span> before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elle smiles against Spencer’s lips and her hands find the buttons of his shirt, undoing all of them and pushing the fabric away from his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets her. He’d let her do just about anything right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elle pulls off her shirt and kisses down Spencer’s throat. He pushes his hands up her body, and immediately realizes that he doesn’t know how to unclip a bra. He fumbles with the clasp for no more than ten seconds before Elle reaches behind her back and unhooks it herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t have time to be embarrassed, because Elle is grinding down on him and he needs to be inside of her </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Elle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wants to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me fuck you.” His voice is close to a whisper, and he sounds unnatural cursing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soon.” She promises, and stands from his lap, unbuttoning her pants and letting him do the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rids herself of her panties, and hooks her small fingers under Spencer’s boxers, tugging them down his thighs, reveling in the view of his hard cock. She rolls a condom onto him before she takes the tip in her mouth, wrapping her hand around him and sucking gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hips buck into her mouth and she smiles, pulling off and settling herself back in his lap. She takes him in her hand, lining him up with her entrance and slowly sinking down until he’s all the way in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, and a hint of a moan comes with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So good.” He whimpers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything you don’t want me to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head furiously. “You can do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he means that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She starts moving, and he feels like a virgin again. Like he could cum any second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands move in rhythm with her hips, on and off of his dick, steadily picking up the pace. His mouth is hanging open and his eyes are squeezed shut despite how badly he wants to watch her every move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She puts pressure on his throat with her hand, leaning down to kiss him slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open your mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does, and finally opens his eyes to watch her spit harshly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Swallow it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He listens, obviously, and moves his hand down to play with her clit, because he’s going to cum soon and it'd be much too embarrassing if he did before her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He mutters, and he swears he hears her </span>
  <em>
    <span>laugh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elle lets out her first real moan, and it’s music to Spencer’s ears. His thumb presses harder and circles faster, and he feels her clench around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m close.” She warns, her voice strained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cum with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes his free hand, the one not on her clit, and interlocks their fingers together, pushing it against the cold sheets, and lets out a string of curses and moans as she comes undone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He follows, unloading into the condom with an arch of his back and a tightening of his stomach. Her head falls beside his shoulder, and they’re both exhausted—a result of both the pleasure and the exertion. She kisses his cheek, and her breath fans over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We definitely have to do this again.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>quick trigger warning for mentions of rape &amp; homophobia in canon typical fashion</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Elle and Spencer fall into a nice rhythm after that. Twice, sometimes three times, a week, they hook up. They switch apartments every now and then, and when Elle asks about Spencer’s filming corner, he comes clean.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh, I kind of make porn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes go wide, raking over the sheets and cushions in the corner. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’ve been doing it for a couple years.” He confesses. “Need to pay off my student loans somehow.” He shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods in understanding. “So...do you think we could maybe make some together?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They do. Lots of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Almost every time they have sex after that, it’s broadcasted for his followers to watch. The videos usually consist of Elle on top of Spencer, her hands around his throat, his gripping her hips tight enough to leave marks. She rides him into oblivion, slapping him silly, spitting in his mouth, tugging at his long hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It drives Derek crazy, watching Spencer’s face when he cums inside of her, the way he arches his back and moans into the air when her hands make contact with his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In almost every video, he’s covered in handprints, bruises, hickeys—and Derek can’t say he’s surprised with Elle’s behavior in the bedroom. It’s oddly fitting for her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels guilty for continuing to watch the streams, but he can’t help it. He’s so hopelessly obsessed with this man and his skinny little body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer comes to work one day and Derek pokes a very visible hickey on his neck. It’s fresh, purple and blue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have fun last night?” He teases. He hates that he knows who he got it from.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup.” Spencer answers simply, a proud smirk on his face as he sits down in his desk chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t let Garcia see that. She’ll pester you all damn day about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Noted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night, Spencer’s hovering over Elle in his bed, her hand down his pants and his in her hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna try something?” Elle pulls away suddenly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want to do?” Spencer questions hesitantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a strap, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely.” He hops out of bed to get it from the cabinet by his setup. “Are we gonna stream?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Definitely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer’s laid out on his back, and the camera is rolling as Elle spreads lube over his entrance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A finger pushes in, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. She pumps and curls it, soon adding a second, spreading her fingers apart to get him ready for the fairly thick dildo strapped to her pelvis.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready?” She asks quietly, and is met with a nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elle lines the tip up with Spencer’s hole, pushing herself forward and holding his small hips down as he takes the dildo inch by inch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He mewls and whimpers, trailing his hand down his abdomen and gripping his cock. She swats his hand away. “No touching.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am.” His voice is so soft and innocent that she’s tempted to give him sweet and reassuring kisses, but now’s not the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good boy.” She praises, and starts thrusting. She’s gripping him hard, and she’s sure he’ll have bruises on his body from her fingertips, but neither of them care. “Taking it so well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moans in response to the praise, wrapping his legs around her waist. She’s loving every second of him writhing beneath her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek watches on his screen with his right hand thrown in his pants. His forehead is covered in a thin layer of sweat, his chest is heaving, and his fist is beating his dick rapidly inside of his boxers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer’s noises are projected through the speakers of the laptop, and it’s music to Derek’s ears. He imagines himself in Elle’s place, fucking Spencer’s pretty ass, hearing him make those noises for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s all too much for him, and he unloads into his palm, his muscles contracting while he pants. The slapping of Elle’s thighs against Spencer’s echos through Derek’s bedroom still, and he feels that familiar shame and disgust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It pools in his stomach, and he slams his laptop shut, standing from his bed and getting into the shower.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water’s scalding hot, and it pours down his skin in hot streams as the steam rises to the ceiling. He braces himself against the tile, closing his eyes and feeling the water fall down every curve of his body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s miserable. At thirty-one years old, he’s not out to a single person in his life, and the extent of him embracing his sexuality is jerking off to his now-coworker’s porn livestreams.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t take it anymore. He sits down on the textured floor, his head in his hands while the water beats down on his face and chest. He doesn’t even have the energy to stand and wash himself off, and if his face didn’t contort and a sob didn’t slip from his slightly parted lips, he wouldn’t even know he’s crying. Tears mix with shower water and circle the drain, and Derek watches as every drop falls through the grate with purpose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His water bill will suffer, but he deems the money worth it to just have a moment like this; just a moment to let out everything he’s been holding in for so long. He doesn’t have to be the ladies’ man, he doesn’t have to be snarky or flirty, he can sit and close his eyes and wait for the sobs to stop wracking his body as his muffled cries are drowned out by the water loudly hitting the bathtub.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once he can muster up the energy to stand again, he washes off and finds sweats to sleep in, turning the lights off and curling up in bed, trying to think of anything except for what just happened as he drifts off to sleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer’s curled up next to Elle in bed, they’re both clad only in their underwear. After Spencer came, he ate her out a few times before they showered together and settled down to sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His slender fingers are carding through her damp hair and her head is pushed in the crook of his neck, where she presses kisses occasionally. He speaks suddenly, and it would’ve startled her if his voice wasn’t so gentle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know if Derek’s single?” He asks, and she pulls away to look up at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, baby.” She laughs and pushes a piece of hair out of his face. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? You don’t get a vibe from him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Spencer. He’s slept with more girls than he can keep track of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer shrugs his small shoulders. “That doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean he’s not gay. Could be overcompensation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think he is.” Elle repeats, snuggling back into his chest. “It’s late. Go to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Night, Spence.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek arrives at work the next morning a few minutes late. He considered not coming in at all, so even showing up is an accomplishment for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re assigned a case in New York City, and Spencer and Elle are attached at the hip on the jet. Of course.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flips through the case file while she peers over his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evidence of sexual assault, and cause of death is strangulation?” Elle asks, and Spencer nods. “Sounds like a homophobe. He raped these men and then killed them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No defense wounds. Looks like the sexual assault was post-mortem.” Spencer corrects, and everyone agrees. “Strangulation is a very personal method of murder, the unsub either knew these men or just has an intense hatred for gay men. I’d guess the second based on the fact that they were found in trash bags.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stressor could be a breakup.” Derek offers. “He may be gay himself, and taking out his anger on these men until he works up the courage to go for who he’s really after.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably. I’d guess this guy is fairly young, twenties or thirties, judging by his strength. Maybe an athlete, not used to being rejected.” Hotch says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They deal with the asshole cops and the excited media at the NYPD station before everybody turns in for the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few days go by before they make an arrest. Noah Davis, college student at NYU.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They have him in the interrogation room, but he’s not saying anything to anybody. Hotch is growing impatient, Derek can tell because he keeps rubbing the back of his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me go in, Hotch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hotch sighs. “Go for it. Keep Emily in there, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second Derek steps in, Noah speaks. “I want the pretty boy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer’s eyes widen and he looks to Hotch, Elle, and Gideon, panicked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Reid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If that’s what the skinny one’s name is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on out.” Hotch interrupts Derek over his earpiece. “I’m gonna send Reid in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!” Spencer‘s high-pitched question slices through the air. “I can’t do this, are you kidding?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have to. You’ll be fine. If you get stuck, we’ll walk you through it.” Hotch assures him, patting him on the shoulder as he steps through the door that Derek and Emily just emerged from.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There he is.” Noah smiles. Spencer feels sick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why did you want to see me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just like you better than the other agents.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to talk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does, but Spencer’s sure it’s only because he unbuttons the top two buttons of his dress shirt, and even flirts a little bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I never thought I’d meet you in the flesh.” Noah says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean by that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve watched you before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer swallows thickly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes you do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s the last thing he says before he’s removed from the room and thrown in a jail cell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer comes out of the interrogation room to face his teammates, re-buttoning his shirt and taking a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice work, Reid.” Spencer smiles at the praise from his boss, but he’s not yet excused. “But what did he mean by ‘I’ve watched you before’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I really don’t know, sir. I think he was just trying to scare me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hotch nods. “We’re staying here another night and leaving in the morning. Everybody’s tired. Meet us in the lobby at 8:00 tomorrow morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer stays with Elle. Derek can hear them fucking all night. He calls Penelope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The unsub recognized Spencer today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” She immediately sounds much more interested than she had ten seconds ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He told him he’s watched him before. And Spencer totally used it to his advantage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my God. Did anybody question it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that I know of. But I think Elle knows too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes you think that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fact that I’ve been listening to them have sex in the room next to me for almost an hour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No way!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes way! You wanna hear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I do!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek holds his phone to the wall behind him before pressing it to his ear again, and when he does, he hears Penelope laughing. “I can’t believe this!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek laughs. “I know, it’s crazy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They talk for a few more minutes before Derek decides he’s tired and wants to sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good luck sleeping with those gorillas next door.” Penelope giggles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll need it.” Derek chuckles. “Goodnight, baby girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Derek Morgan.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s easy to get caught up in one’s fantasies. Spencer learns this quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elle leaves before Spencer wakes up, almost always. He doesn’t mind—it saves him the awkwardness of leaning away from her when they speak so that she can’t smell his morning breath, or of wiggling into his boxers under the blankets because it’s just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of bed—but it makes him realize that he wants that company. Not with Elle, just with </span>
  <em>
    <span>somebody</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, do you ever think that, like, you want more than this?” Spencer asks one night, with his head resting in the crook of her neck as her fingers push through his hair. They’re both completely fucked out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know; kisses when you get home from work, sex that means something, waking up next to somebody and actually being </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it.” He shrugs, and feels her nod above him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah—it sounds nice, I’m just not ready to be committed to something like that.” She replies, shifting underneath him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer sighs. “I am.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer watches Derek fall into his desk chair tiredly on a Monday morning. He can’t blame him, he hates Mondays too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do anything fun this weekend?” Spencer asks, smiling as Derek glares at him. “Haven’t had your coffee yet, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope.” He grumbles, setting his bag by his feet and placing his laptop on his desk. “And no, I did not do anything fun this weekend.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unless you count jerking off to your old porn videos, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks. “What about you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shocking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek opens the top of his laptop and pulls up his work before he makes his way to the coffee machine across the bullpen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaves his computer open as he gets his caffeine fix, and on his journey to the bathroom, a certain bookmark catches Spencer’s eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“baby_boy” is all it reads, and Spencer looks around to be sure no one’s watching before he clicks on it, and is redirected to a porn streaming site. Specifically, his own account on a porn streaming site.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart drops to his ass and he quickly exits the window, wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks and walking much faster to the bathroom than before. He notices the sweat on his forehead when he pushes his hair back and swallows thickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tries not to get hard thinking about Derek jerking off to him—this is not the time, nor is it the place—but imagining his heaving chest and the ropes of cum covering his stomach is all too much for Spencer. He feels his pants tighten, and curses under his breath when all he can think about is Derek fucking him on the bathroom counter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thinking about probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be better than this, so he thinks about how he tripped coming out of the squad car in front of a Sheriff yesterday, how he spilled coffee on his shirt last week, how he moaned like a pornstar when he came in Elle’s mouth on Thursday, and how they both laughed about it after.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The awkwardness, thankfully, overwhelms him, and he feels his cock soften in his pants, though he’s still definitely horny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He returns to his desk with his head down and a lump in his throat. He types away for most of the day, only taking breaks for coffee, lunch, and to pee (which he realized soon after sitting back down that he forgot to do).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you coming over tonight?” Spencer asks Elle as he holds the door open for her to leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m tired.” She frowns. “Maybe tomorrow?” He nods before they separate and get into their respective cars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer drives home with Derek on his mind, and feels his cock grow in his pants once again. He rushes up the stairs to his apartment (the elevator is broken, his legs have been sore all week) and lets out a sigh of relief when he can finally close the creaky door behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kicks off his shoes, sets down his bag, and unbuttons his shirt, pulling it off before tossing it to the floor. The rest of his clothes quickly fall to the wood as well, and he sets up his computer and HD webcam attachment where they usually go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a couple of toys out—a clear, pink, gel dildo, and a vibrating cock ring—and finds the lube. He sifts through his drawers and finds a pair of pink panties, stepping into them and tucking his cock to the side. It’s visible through the thin fabric, but it looks cute. Pretty, even.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He begins the stream, sitting daintily on his knees on one of the cushions in the corner.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek watches in awe. He stares at the panties covering Spencer’s ass, and his teeth capture his bottom lip as his fingers trail under his waistband.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Spencer takes the entire dildo in his mouth and his nose hits the wall—that’s when Derek thinks he might lose it. His hand wraps around his painfully hard cock, stroking it carefully while he watches Spencer deepthroat the toy. He chokes and drools around the dildo, his back arching and his eyes closing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek imagines himself in that scenario. Pulling his hair, thrusting into his mouth, looking down at his little watery eyes while he sucks him off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Spencer pulls his cock from the panties, it’s all Derek can look at. It’s probably eight inches, not too thick, and perfectly straight. It would look fantastic in Derek’s hand, leaking precum while he pounds him into next week.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning at work, Spencer seems uncomfortable. Whether it’s because he sat on a massive dildo last night, or because of something else, Derek has no idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tired?” Derek asks, setting a coffee in front of his coworker before taking his seat. Spencer mumbles his thanks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something like that.” He answers, sipping the sugary coffee in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hotch soon calls them into the conference room, and Penelope explains that there's a case in New York that needs the attention of the BAU.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they board the plane, Spencer smells of cigarettes and pine, and it’s oddly comforting to Derek when it overloads his senses as Spencer takes the seat beside him. His satchel is on his lap, his hair is gelled back, and his watch hangs from his skinny wrist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek thinks it’s funny how virginal he looks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t focus when Hotch talks about the case—something about murders and misogyny—because all that’s at the forefront of his mind is how Spencer looked bouncing on that toy last night. Is it weird to compliment a coworker on how well he takes cock?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reid and Morgan are assigned with visiting the latest crime scene, although they can’t find anything out of the ordinary. (Except for the blood spattered floor, the hammer covered in dried stains from blood and semen, and the scratches and dents in the walls and floor that are evidence enough of a massive struggle).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Photos are placed where the body had been mutilated, and the only conclusions that can be drawn are painstakingly obvious; overkill, violent misogyny, left-handedness. It’s all very basic, and doesn’t help further the profile by much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They leave, frustrated, and join Hotch, JJ, Emily, and Rossi at the police station. As a team, they recap what they know about the case, and try their best to develop the profile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The week is ended with a few drinks at the hotel bar—the team is thrilled they get to leave in the morning, and even Hotch is with them on this joyous occasion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer gets awfully brave when he drinks, which is something he should’ve taken into consideration before he ordered his fourth sangria.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek excuses himself to the bathroom, and Spencer leaves a moment later, leaving his drink with Elle and stumbling from his stool. He fumbles with his zipper while Derek flushes, washing his hands and looking at himself in the mirror—fixing his collar, unbuttoning his top button—until Spencer needs to use the sink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer washes his hands, wiping the water on his pants, and putting his hand on Derek’s shoulder to get his attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wet lips meet chapped ones, and Spencer falls into the larger man’s embrace. Large hands spread across his spine before the kiss is broken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” His voice is almost panicked as he holds the skinny arms in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kissing you.” Spencer shrugs, taking Derek’s face in his hands and colliding with him again before he’s pushed away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re drunk. I-I’d love to kiss you, Spencer, but you’re drunk.” He swallows thickly, and Spencer nods in understanding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that you watch my cam stuff.” He blurts out. “I saw it on your laptop when you went to get coffee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not often that Derek Morgan is rendered speechless, but in this moment, he’s entirely unsure of what to say. “I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t, like, apologize, or anything. I don’t care. You’re giving me money.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek helps Spencer from the bar to his hotel room—makes sure he changes into pajamas, brushes his teeth, takes all of his medications—before he leaves for his own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Spencer wakes up with a faint headache. There’s a glass of water and some Advil on the nightstand next to him that he assumes was left there for him last night. A note is scribbled on hotel stationary in neat, all-uppercase handwriting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take you out tonight, if you’ll still have me. -D.M.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
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